


Falling Into the Lion's Den

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, F/M, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Calanthe and Eist have slept together many times, but it was never aboutfeelings. So why does Eist propose to her and insist on changing everything?
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Klair on discord for the title!

The first time Calanthe had sex with Eist was not when they were first married. Actually, it had been when she was young. Perhaps too young in retrospect, but she hadn’t wanted her husband, Roegner, to be her first. She had married because her duty was to produce a royal heir, but she felt nothing for her husband. He was rather a dullard, as far as she was concerned, and she’d heard rumors that sex made one vulnerable.

Calanthe refused to find out for the first time with someone she couldn’t trust. And Eist was the only one she _did_ trust enough. So their mutual first times had been together.

After that, and after she was pregnant with Pavetta, Calanthe found she had little interest in such escapes for several years. Wrangling a newborn child and a potential backstabber of a husband was plenty to keep her occupied. 

But as she got older, and Pavetta was increasingly more self-sufficient (or the equivalent with the help of servants), Calanthe found that she missed it. Not the act itself, not at first, but the closeness of it, the feeling of trust.

She wanted that again, and she felt no obligation to remain loyal to the husband she’d never wanted. And Eist – well, in retrospect, Eist had been taking whatever she was willing to give. 

Calanthe wondered how long he had loved her. She would never be able to ask him, but she suspected it was quite early in their acquaintance. Meanwhile, she’d taken a decade to figure her feelings out.

The thing was, sex had always been an act of trust for them, but it had never been about _emotion._ She couldn’t afford to let herself lead with emotion, not when her people depended on her to protect them. 

She should have stopped their encounters after she realized he was in love with her. She’d even almost done it.

But – the life of a Queen was stressful, moreso the life of one with a useless husband who thought his crown actually made him King and able to overrule his Queen. She’d taught him that lesson swiftly and painfully, but it was exhausting, constantly being on guard for his next move, for the stab in the back. 

The only reason Calanthe hadn’t done away with him herself was that Pavetta seemed to hold some measure of fondness for her sperm donor, and Calanthe would do anything to keep Pavetta happy. Even if it meant dealing with her husband. At least they’d established separate quarters from the start of their marriage. She had been very clear about what the expectations were – she needed an heir, and after that, he could evaporate for all she cared.

Calanthe had an heir now. Pavetta was a strong and healthy seven years old. Calanthe finally had the time and space to think about what she wanted and how she could be successful.

Which lead to the realization that Eist loved her. He’d always been a friend, ever since he first started showing up at court whenever Skellige had matters to settle. They were both warriors, and extremely tactile ones at that – they wrestled and sparred regularly. That was part of why she had decided to choose him for her first time – she already knew his body, and he knew hers. It seemed better that way.

So she had never registered that the way he rested his hand on her back after a liaison, solid and supportive, might mean more than she was ready for. Only Eist had never pushed her, never asked for more. He understood the position she was in, he knew that even once her husband obligingly died, she would never marry again. The need for a husband had passed, and Calanthe planned to rule unopposed, once Roegner was taken care of.

So instead of cataloguing all the signs she’d missed of Eist’s affection, Calanthe decided to ignore it all. She didn’t want to stop their liaisons. Her time with Eist – both in bed, but also outside of it, when they just spent time together and debated politics and sparred – was time that she treasured dearly. Other than anything to do with Pavetta, it was the only thing she looked forward to each season. Eist would often spent winters in Cintra now, as an official representative of Skellige, with the excuse that he was escaping the harsh Skelligen winters. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Calanthe regarded Eist a friend. She had for a long time – since they had first met when she was a child. Well, she hadn’t _publicly_ called him friend, but there were only a handful of royals and nobles that Calanthe actually got along with. That’s part of why Skellige kept sending Eist – he actually got results and didn’t leave meetings plotting assassination. Eist’s incomprehensible and uncompromising dedication to Calanthe was common gossip amongst the right noble circles.

So really, Calanthe should have seen this coming. She should have seen Eist’s feelings from the start five years ago, should have recognized that such an emotional man as he would never separate feelings from sex. The right thing to do would be to call it off, to let Eist nurse his broken heart until he got over it. She wasn’t worried about losing his friendship – he had spent many, many years proving himself to her. She no longer questioned his loyalty. He was hers – completely dedicated to her cause (though not without his own considerations. Skellige wouldn’t send him if she was able to walk all over him. His backtalk made him even more appealing).

It would be wrong to string him along. He was her friend and he deserved more than that.

But she didn’t want to deal with sorting her feelings out, didn’t want to deal with the disconnect between her desires and her reality. She was Queen of Cintra. Her duty to her people would always come first.

She hated herself for doing it, but she continued her affair with Eist. Nothing changed – they never spoke about feelings. Instead, they spoke about their days and their worries and their plans and Calanthe felt grounded and safe when she was with him.

It was all working out fine, gnawing guilt aside, until Roegner finally died. It was a flu that took him in the end, which was just pathetic. Still, the timing was ideal – Pavetta was twelve, the perfect age to gradually start taking on more courtly duties. Without having to worry about Roegner’s political maneuvering, Calanthe could devote her full attention to mentoring her daughter. She was looking forward to it.

Everything about Roegner’s death was an upside in her book, until she got the official notice from Skellige.

_Jarl of Skellige Eist Tuirseach formally requests the hand of Queen Calanthe, Lioness of Cintra_

Calanthe felt numb. Why would he do this to her? He had to know she couldn’t say yes! Even if she wanted to – and she didn’t want to think about what she wanted. If she thought about it, she might start thinking she could have it, and Calanthe refused to let her desires ruin everything. Her duty was Cintra. She would always put her kingdom first.

Which was why this hurt so much. Because she _had_ to say no. When a man married into the royal family, they became King and their authority superceded her’s – technically. In practice, it was obviously more complicated, but she’d just gotten rid of the husband she’d always had to keep an eye on (lest he go and do something stupid again, like invoke the Law of Surprise). She had no interest in dealing with the court politics that a King would introduce.

Didn’t Eist know that? Didn’t he know that she could never stand in the background for any man? It didn’t matter what she may have felt – she needed power to protect Cintra, and she could not compromise on that.

This would change everything. Calanthe sighed. It was doubtful Eist would be willing to continue after she was forced to break his heart. She might even lose her friend, though hopefully only for as long as he needed to recover. 

If she’d known their last time was going to be their actual last, she would have done so much more. Would have taken so much more. 

Instead, she was left with a fading memory of pleasure, his mouth on her in the early morning, waking her up before her court appointments. She mostly remembered contentedness and pleasure, which was not a bad way to remember him.

But she wished she could remember all the details. The way he touched her, firm but gentle. Never in a way that implied he thought her fragile, but in a way that said he found her precious. The way he smirked at her in the sparring ring when he wanted to get her hot and bothered. The way his hands smoothed over her skin, rough with sword calluses and sailing calluses and decades of cuts and nicks and bruises. She had always liked the texture. It was just imperfect enough, just _real_ enough to let her believe that she could have these moments of pleasure, these moments where someone’s entire world was her.

These moments where _Eist’s_ entire world was her.

Eist didn’t avoid her now, at least. He’d stayed in Skellige for a full year, rather than coming to Cintra for the winter. But he’d come with an envoy in the spring for a brief visit, and reassured her that he would always be her friend.

He still debated policy and tactics with her, still sparred with her whenever they had time. But he never touched her for more than a few seconds, always perfectly proper.

Calanthe hated it. It wasn’t just losing the pleasure with Eist, it was losing all of the intimacy they had. It was realizing that Eist wore a mask in front of her now, when he never had before. 

She almost wanted to request that he stay in Skellige for the winter again, but she found that the tables had turned now. Now she was the one desperate for his attention, desperate for his acknowledgement.

And he gave it to her. It was just never quite enough.

Calanthe didn’t know what to do with these feelings. Especially when, the final day of Eist’s stay that second winter after his proposal, he blindsided her again.

“Calanthe,” Eist’s voice was soft, and he took her hand in his. That alone was more intimacy than they’d had in so long, and Calanthe immediately wanted more. Eist licked his lips and squeezed her hand. “I never want to push you to do anything you don’t want to. But I have to ask,” he looked her in the eye and her stomach dropped as she realized where this was going. “Will you marry me?”

Calanthe’s head was shaking before he finished getting the words out. “You know I can’t, Eist.” Her own voice was surprisingly choked and she swallowed. She couldn’t show emotion like this, she couldn’t look weak. 

“You can, though.” His thumb came up to brush away a tear she hadn’t even realized was forming. How disgraceful, to lose control of herself like this.

Calanthe stepped back from him, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t see the hurt on his face. “Don’t do this.”

“Calanthe–”

Calanthe shook her head sharply cutting him off. “Don’t do this, Eist, don’t make me reject you. Just –” she sighed deeply, rubbing at the headache rapidly forming behind her left eye. “Just go back to Skellige. Write me when you win the tournament next week.”

Hopefully that would be enough to show him that she didn’t want him out of her life entirely. She didn’t want him out of her life at all. But she couldn’t be jerked around by her feelings like this, couldn’t let this weakness rule her.

It had to be enough, because she couldn’t stand to be there another minute. She tried to leave without a backwards glance, she really did. She had known the hurt in Eist’s eyes would haunt her.

She’d been right. When she peeked over her shoulder, Eist’s face was sad and forlorn, his eyes shadowed.

Calanthe had done that to him. She shut her eyes against the sight, but it was already burned into her brain, and every time she closed her eyes, she could see it.

So Calanthe used the only coping mechanism she knew – she threw herself into training and slaughtered training dummy after training dummy. 

––

Eist did write to her. He hadn’t won the tournament, and a guilty part of her wondered if it was her fault. If she made him as weak as he made her.

She didn’t know what she wanted to answer to be. 

They resumed writing each other back and forth, always in code just in case they were intercepted. And because it was good practice to decode her own letters, not at all because she simply enjoyed puzzles.

Queens didn’t enjoy simple things. 

Aside from the new codes Eist challenged her with, Calanthe was grateful that he continued as if their last meeting hadn’t happened. It wasn’t ideal – it was the same as after the first time. Her friend had erected a wall between them and she couldn’t blame him.

But she wanted nothing more than to smash that wall down. She wanted Eist to look at her openly the way he had before, with admiration and lust and just a hint of fear.

She had liked when the fear was of her might, of her strength and power. Now, the fear she could see in him was fear of getting hurt, fear of what she might do to him. For some reason, he let her close anyway.

She wished she could stop reaching out to him. It would be better for both of them, less painful. Yet she couldn’t let go.

How selfish was she, to cling to that affection even when it was a thorned blade that cut into the giver? Eist deserved better than her.

He let her hurt him anyway. Again, he came to stay in Cintra for the winter. Again, they resumed their friendship – affectionate, but with strict boundaries now. And again, when he left, he proposed to her. 

Calanthe shook her head and she could feel tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. It made her even angrier. “Why do you do this to me?” She demanded. “What do you expect will happen, Eist? You know I cannot marry again.”

Eist shook his head. Unlike previous times, the look in his eye was more sadness than hope. He didn’t expect this to work, but he was asking her anyway. He was hurting them both like this for no reason. She almost missed it when he responded quietly. “You can, though. I’m not asking for your kingdom, Calanthe,” he took her hand again, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand. “I’m asking for you. I’m asking to spend our lives together because we want to.”

Calanthe used her free hand to wipe furiously at her eyes. She _hated_ that frustration made her eyes leak like the delicate woman too many people thought she was. “It doesn’t work like that, Eist. I cannot separate my life from my kingdom.”

“I’m not asking you to.” He brought her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against her skin. The shiver she felt at the contact trailed up her arm and down her spine. He stepped away, dropping her hand. “But I meant what I said. I won’t push you.”

“Then why do you keep asking?” 

“Because I have to keep trying.” Eist’s smile was sad. “If there’s any chance, I have to try.”

“You know it’s not because I don’t want you,” Calanthe insisted. She wished her sense of duty would let her have him.

“Yes it is,” Eist said. He walked away from her, and there as no backwards glance this time.

What did that mean? She _did_ want him. She’d proven that well enough back when he’d allowed her in his bed. Why would he doubt that now?

“You’re being obtuse,” Pavetta told her. Calanthe wasn’t sure how they’d drifted onto the topic of her own love life. She usually worked very hard to ensure that _didn’t_ happen, especially with her daughter. They’d been discussing the plans for Pavetta’s betrothal dinner next month, and then there had been rather a lot of ale, and now Calanthe was grousing about the man whose final statement she still didn’t understand. (They’d been in touch since then. Again, his first letter pretended the whole conversation had never happened.)

“Excuse me?” Calanthe bit out.

“You’re taking the words too literally. It’s obvious how the two of you feel about each other to anyone with eyes, Mother, but you can’t admit to yourself what it is you really feel.” Pavetta set down her teacup with a click of porcelain on porcelain. “That’s what he’s waiting for. For you to accept him with full awareness.”

“You think I should accept,” Calanthe realized with a start.

Pavetta gave her a pitying look, and this entire situation was truly untenable if her own daughter was pitying her now. “I think you need to stop avoiding the question and figure out how you feel.” She sighed, setting down the seating chart they’d been working on at the start of this conversation. Calanthe was pretty sure they hadn’t actually touched on the topic since the first barrel of ale had been opened, though. “Maybe once you figure out your own heart, you won’t force me to go through with this.”

Now Calanthe sighed, deep and heartfelt. “Pavetta, marriage is part of our duty to our people. You can have whomever you wish once your married, but you need a legitimate heir.”

Pavetta scowled. “That’s all marriage is to you, isn’t it? No wonder you keep breaking Eist’s heart.” Calanthe drew back at the flung accusation. She hadn’t realized Pavetta cared so much about Eist.

What else would marriage be? You signed a contract to make your heir legitimate so that they could inherit. That was all marriage had ever been.

Pavetta saw her confusion, and the pity in her eyes deepened. “No wonder you don’t understand why I hate this. You’re too scared of love to let yourself be happy.” She shook her head at Calanthe with a slight sneer, then turned and marched away from her, as if Calanthe could be dismissed just like that.

Calanthe was too shocked to be angry. It was nice to see Pavetta speaking up for something, but she really would have preferred if it had been on her side.

She kept thinking about Pavetta’s words over the next few days as she finalized the banquet preparations. It would be the first time she would be seeing Eist since her latest rejection, and it would be for him to marry his nephew off to her daughter. It didn’t matter what that made her feel. Cintra needed an alliance with Skellige to thrive, and Pavetta’s marriage to Crach an Craite would accomplish that. 

It made something in her ache to finalize the only thing Eist could conceivably see in her. Cintra and Skellige’s alliance was best for both kingdoms. Pavetta’s marriage would solidify that. There would no longer be any reason for Eist to propose marriage.

She didn’t even _want_ him to propose again. Having to telling him no hurt like a lance to the heart each time, and she didn’t know why he kept doing it. But he had proposed to her every year, and some part of her held that knowledge close to her chest. That for whatever reason, Eist cared about her, _wanted_ her enough to keep trying, to keep getting hurt.

This would put an end to that. That was supposed to be a good thing.

If Calanthe delayed attending her daughter’s feast until the real start of business, it was only because there were some townships in the south that were getting uppity. It wasn’t at all to avoid Eist.

Neither was the way she fixated on the Witcher to distract herself, barely letting her eyes meet Eist’s. She would see him when they finalized it. Until then, it was too much. The Witcher was interesting company, anyway, and he could prove useful if the deal her idiot husband had made with Destiny decided to mess with her plans.

When it was finally time, Calanthe took a long draught of beer to prepare herself and then looked up to meet Eist’s eyes. He had already been looking at her and she idly wondered how long he’d been doing that.

Eist gave her the slightest nod, his face going blank in a way she’d never seen before. He nudged his nephew, telling him to approach the throne.

Then there was a disturbance outside the hall and a knight errant busted into her hall, asking for Pavetta’s hand. Calanthe was furious. Eist, ever at her service even now, smacked the helmet off the knight, and revealed the horrific creature that wanted to claim Pavetta. When the witcher wouldn’t do his damn job and dispose of the monster, she ordered her guards to engage.

And then the cursed knight shouted that Pavetta was his by right because of the Law of Surprise, and the moment that changed everything happened. The moment Eist engaged in the brawl on the side _against_ her.

She couldn’t kill him. She couldn’t risk him getting killed. Calanthe had to put a stop to this. She should have known that she’d need to deal with this personally anyway. She killed the man sneaking up behind Eist, the momentary fear on his face when he saw her approaching forever etched into her mind. 

Eist thought she would kill him. And he wouldn’t have defended himself – he had time to raise his sword when she approached, and he deliberately hadn’t. He would have let her kill him if that had been her goal.

How had everything gone so wrong that this was where they stood? Had she really failed to show Eist that she would never let him be hurt if it was within her power to prevent?

The way he trembled finely as he defended the Law of Surprise gave her the answer to that question. He was afraid of her, and still, he argued against her, argued in favor of this nameless vagabond Pavetta thought she loved.

Calanthe didn’t have time to think through how she felt about that before Pavetta backed her into a corner.

“I love Duny, Mother. I will marry him. I will finally be free,” Pavetta exclaimed, as if the ties of duty had become a suffocating trap.

Calanthe struggled to decide her next move. She had one final move up her sleeve, but if she succeeded, Pavetta would hate her forever. Could she bear that price?

Calanthe looked from Mousesack, the druid advisor to the Skelligen crown who had been deeply involved in the wedding negotiations, to the hedgehog and Pavetta, and over to Eist. He was already looking at her, and as she stared at him, she felt like she finally understood the question he’d truly been asking all this time.

She hadn’t realized before that by _will you marry me?_ he meant _will you trust me with your heart?_. When she’d said no, he heard the rejection of everything she wanted from him. If this went wrong, if Pavetta hated her for what she did next, she needed Eist to know that she hadn’t rejected his heart because she didn’t care about him. Marriage meant something different to her.

She tried to put all of that into her gaze, all of the trust and affection and care she had for him. She saw the way his eyes shifted and his mouth widened in surprise.

To make her declaration clear in his language, a warrior’s language, she offered him her sword. She didn’t need it now, and she would always trust Eist with a weapon at her back. She chose to believe that the way he dragged his finger against hers was him acknowledging her declaration – him saying he would stand by her no matter what.

A tear dripped down her face. Would that still be true after what she was going to do next? She would have to wait and see. That’s why she had to make him understand before she did this. He might not trust her word after– 

After she killed Pavetta’s lover in front of her.

It was the right thing to do, Cintra _needed_ the marriage between Pavetta and Crach an Craite. And the man was a hedgehog! She was not crowning a hedgehog king. It wasn’t going to happen.

Calanthe drew her hidden blade and aimed for the beast’s throat. 

Pavetta’s scream would haunt her for the rest of her life. The power almost seemed like an afterthought to the sheer _pain_ in Pavetta’s voice. They were thrown back away from Pavetta, and Eist and Calanthe slid to the floor near the front table.

The windows shattered above them in a shower of glass, and Eist’s arm wrapped protectively around her.

“My queen, are you hurt?” He helped her to sit upright and she clutched his arm tightly. Calanthe stared wide-eyed as a maelstrom formed around Pavetta, and her daughter’s feet lifted off the banquet hall floor, hovering in the air. The two of them had to brace against the wind as it pushed them back. The winds grew more violent, and she watched the witcher try and fail to disrupt the storm. 

If this continued, Pavetta would kill them all. Her daughter didn’t have the heart to survive that.

She couldn’t see what the Witcher and Mousesack did, the wind growing hazy in front of them, but suddenly, the wind stopped, as abruptly as it had started. Pavetta dropped to the floor, and she appeared to be uninjured.

Eist helped her sit up again and said, his voice gravely with awe, “Do you believe in Destiny now?”

Calanthe turned to look him in the eye. “Yes,” she whispered. “To your other question. Yes.”

A flurry of emotions passed over Eist’s face, and she couldn’t help the way her gaze dropped to his lips, missing the taste of them. Eist noticed and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Grasping his hand, she pulled them both to their feet. In front of them, Pavetta pulled her own lover to his feet and cupped his face.

Calanthe inhaled deeply, preparing herself to face Pavetta. Eist’s arm came up to squeeze her bicep and Calanthe thought again that he would support her through anything. All he asked for in returned was her heart.

Whether it was a fair exchange or not, Pavetta’s actions had forced her hand. If Pavetta must be married to the hedgehog, then Calanthe needed someone else to be King. Of course Eist was the only one she would trust.

The thrill in her chest when she had whispered her acceptance of his proposal betrayed that this was more than just a practical decision. She could have lost Eist today, she could have lost Pavetta. If keeping them safe meant biting back her pride, then Calanthe would do so. She would do anything to keep them safe.

Calanthe stepped forward slowly, keeping her empty hands in view. Pavetta stared at her with suspicion that broke Calanthe’s heart and she had to pull her daughter into a hug. “It seems I was wrong. About so many things,” she murmured to her daughter before declaring her decision for all to hear. Pavetta would marry the man she wanted to.

Calanthe could see the nobles shifting uneasily around the room and before she could muster the energy to deal with it, Eist stepped forward and declared Skellige’s army at her beck and call. 

In one move, they had united the continent’s largest army and its largest navy. The nobles were satisfyingly kowtowed by that, as she’d expected.

She hadn’t expected to get to be happy out of it, though. Calanthe squeezed Eist’s hand on her right and Pavetta’s hand on her left. They would have much to sort out, but as long as these two remained beside her, Calanthe could handle it.

And if she spent her daughter’s binding ceremony thinking about Eist’s rough calluses against her palm – well, that was what a good poker face was for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I can ever get the inspiration, this will have a 2nd chapter of porn. Very emotional, tender porn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calanthe and Eist are finally alone after all of the upheaval at the Banquet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd chapter is here!

Calanthe wasn’t sure what she expected when she was finally left alone with Eist, but she was not prepared for the gentleness. They had left Pavetta and her hedgehog-cum-man in the corridor and walked together into Calanthe’s own quarters. The fire had been lit by servants and the bed turned down, and it made the room look unusually cozy.

Or maybe it was that as soon as they walked inside, Eist had pulled her into him by her wrist and kissed her. When all she could pay attention to was Eist, who was handling her so very gently, the rest of the room hardly mattered. The look in his eyes made her feel special and cozy.

Calanthe didn’t deserve it. Her bullheadedness had almost gotten them all killed, almost cost her her daughter, and almost cost her Eist. She had been literally moments from signing away any chance for their future. 

Eist had almost died. Technically, they had all almost died, but that scared her much less than the thought of losing Eist. Calanthe knew in her heart that when Eist died, she would follow soon after. She no longer had any interest in a world without him.

She needed to tell him that, needed to make it clear that when she accepted, she was accepting his hidden message as well. It wasn’t just to save her kingdom.

Pulling away from Eist’s gentle kisses was the hardest thing Calanthe had ever had to do, but she needed him to know. She cupped his face in her hands, stroking her thumbs through his beard. “Eist,” she kissed the corner of his mouth because she couldn’t not. She kept kissing him between words. “When I said yes,” She sucked at the corner of his jaw, enjoying the bristly feel of his stubble against her tongue. “I meant all of it.” Calanthe pulled back to meet his eyes. “I trust you.” She took one of his hands in hers and pressed it over her heart. “With everything,” her words were a whisper of breath against Eist’s lips and he looked at her with such softness, such vulnerability, everything he’d hidden behind a mask since that first rejection.

Eist leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you, Calanthe.” He kissed her again, so soft and loving. To her embarrassment, Calanthe could feel tears welling up in her eyes. But if there was anyone she could trust would not exploit her weakness, it was him.

He pulled back and brushed his thumbs through her tears. “Good tears, I hope?” The quirk of his lip betrayed that he already knew they were. He knew her better than anyone.

“I didn’t know this was something I could have,” she whispered. Calanthe pulled him into a hug, nuzzling her face into his neck. It was easier to talk when she didn’t have to meet his eyes. “It was never because I didn’t love you.” She had to press her lips against his skin then, had to feel his pulse against her tongue. “I thought I could never have you.”

Eist’s breath shuddered out of him and he pulled her closer against him. “I’ve always been yours,” he murmured, his voice a deep growl in her ear. She knew he could feel her shudder at that, so she bit his neck in retribution, sucking a deep red mark above his collar.

The world would know that Eist was Calanthe’s.

Though, she supposed, their marriage did that, didn’t it? In addition to protecting her kingdom, their marriage meant that the world knew they were tied together. “Oh,” she breathed against him.  _ That’s _ what Pavetta had meant, that marriage was more than just a way to provide legitimate heirs. Marriage was a way to publicly declare their devotion, their love.

If only she could have understood that before they’d both been hurt. She took his face in her hands again and looked into blue eyes that positively shone with love. “Let me show you my love.” His breath hitched and she watched his pupils dilate. A smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. “Would you like that, Eist?”

“Yes,” he breathed, not taking his eyes off her.

She could feel her smirk melting into a lovestruck smile, and she let it happen, let him see the effect he had on her. “The formidable seahound of Skellige, all mine,” she brushed his hair back.  _ “My _ seahound.” 

Eist didn’t even try to hide his whine at that, and Calanthe decided she would need to use that regularly. 

“Let’s get your clothes off, hmm?” She leaned in to press a brief kiss to his mouth and then started on the buttons of his tunic. She kissed down his neck as she worked at the small fastenings. Finally, she let his belt fall to the floor and the tunic gaped open over his heavily furred chest. Calanthe loved his chest, loved the healthy layer of flesh over hardened muscle, loved the thick brown hair he was covered with, loved the way his pink nipples peeked out of that fur when hard. 

Calanthe pressed soft kisses down his collar as her hands traced across naked skin and up over his shoulders, pushing his tunic off entirely. Eist shivered, and Calanthe let her fingers trace over his back as she kissed across his chest, brushing her cheek against the soft hair. “The time I spend thinking about this chest,” Calanthe murmured, flicking her eyes up to meet his. “The way it feels under my cheek when we lay together. The way it tickles my chest when we’re pressed together,” she flicked her tongue over his nipple and he wailed. “How sensitive you are.” She opened her mouth around his nipple and sucked it into her mouth. 

“Calanthe,” he moaned. His hands touched her arms, her shoulders, her back, and he made a frustrated noise that her clothes were still in the way.

“Patience, my love.” Eist made a soft sound at that. She kissed back up his chest, her hands coming around to brush through his hair from his hips to his shoulders. “Don’t you want to know how often I think about your shoulders,” she teased, circling around him to mouth across his left shoulder. He made a disappointed sound when she slipped out of his grasp, so she pressed close against his back, the embroidery on her dress rough against his skin. 

She stroked one hand up from his neck to thread through his hair and pulled his head back. Calanthe sucked her way across his shoulder and up his neck. When she got to his ear, she murmured, “you are all I dream about.”

Eist shuddered against her. “Calanthe, please,” he whined.

“My seahound, already so desperate.” Keeping him pressed against her, she pressed her free hand down his chest to his brown leggings. The front bulged, his cock already hard for her. She teased her fingers along the waistband, “We’ll need to take these off, won’t we?” 

Eist’s hands came up to follow her implied order, pushing the tights down his legs. He bent over in front of her to remove his boots and she pressed her hips against his ass. He pushed back into her and once he was fully unclothed, he pressed his shoulders back against her too. She sucked a mark onto his shoulder, then circled around to his front. Her hand slid out of his hair to cup his cheek. 

She stood in front of him, fully clad and with her crown on her head while he was completely naked in front of her. The glint in his eye told her he liked that, liked her power over him. She just had one change she wanted to make.

“We didn’t have a proper handfasting,” Calanthe said, “but I have something I want to give you.”

Eist hummed in question. Calanthe reached up and removed the crown from her head, placing it on his. Eist’s eyes went wide and he started shaking his head, so she cupped his cheeks to keep him still. “I trust you with my kingdom, Eist. Our kingdom,” she corrected herself with a half smile. “Besides, the crown is yours by right. You already know I’m not going to step back from ruling.”

Eist’s arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer. “And you already know I have little interest in duties of state.” He placed a hand over hers on his face. “I married you, Calanthe, not your kingdom.”

“I know,” Calanthe said calmly. She did know that now. When she’d thought of marriages as affairs of state, she didn’t understand. But now, knowing that marriage could be more than that, that it could be a declaration of love… “I know.”

“Then why?”

She smiled. “Because I trust you with my heart. You know my duty to Cintra. There is no one else I would trust with my kingdom.”

And then, while holding eye contact, Calanthe dropped to her knees. Eist choked in surprise, almost stepping back before she wrapped her hands around his legs. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “I want to do this for you, Eist.”

“I would never ask you–” She wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and he broke off with a gasp.

“That’s why I want to,” she winked at him before licking across the tip of his cock. He threaded his fingers through her hair – not guiding her, just holding, scratching lightly at the base of her skull the way she liked. Calanthe hummed in pleasure and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock to let him enjoy the vibrations.

This wasn’t the first time Calanthe had given Eist a blow job, but it had always been when they were vertical, so she could have him in whatever position she wished. Calanthe would kneel for no other. But Eist? She would do anything for Eist, and she wanted him to know that.

Eist shuddered above her, desperate moans spilling from his mouth. He was trying so very hard to keep his hips still for her, but as on edge as he was, he couldn’t quite manage. Calanthe chuckled, flicking her tongue under his foreskin.

Eist fell apart, a broken sound wrenched from his throat as though he could give voice to nothing else. His knees buckled and she rose easily to catch him. Calanthe picked him up in her arms, and his head fell to rest on her shoulder, her crown still sitting on his head. “Calanthe,” he murmured, voice gravelly.

“I know, my seahound,” She smiled down at him and set him gently down on the bed. “We’re not finished yet.”

Eist hummed, lips curling up in pleasure. “I should hope not. I haven’t been able to swear fealty to my new queen yet.” He winked at her. “I must pay my respects and profess my devotion to your pleasure as my highest goal.”

Calanthe laughed openly. She worked at the fastenings of her dress, shrugging off the outer dress and skirts. This left her in the ornate leather corset the occasion of her daughter’s betrothal feast had forced her to wear.

She wasn’t hating it as much now, with the way Eist’s eyes trailed over her. She sauntered back over to him, climbing onto the bed on her knees until she was sitting over his face.

Eist made a hungry noise and wrapped his arms around her thighs to pull her closer, burying himself in her folds. Calanthe fisted a hand in his hair and rocked against his face, a growled moan escaping her as Eist practically smothered himself in her. He made a pleased noise and thrust his tongue into her. 

As much as she enjoyed the way Eist had looked at her in it, her corset was getting rather restrictive and uncomfortable. If she were a proper lady, she’d unlace her corset correctly.

But she was Calanthe, so she took Eist’s hand in hers and led their hands to pull the knife she kept hidden in her headboard. Eist made an inquisitive noise against her clit that had her arching against him. She needed out of this corset  _ now. _

She guided their hands on the knife together to her back and deftly slid the knife up through the laces. Eist shifted his hand to apply the slightest bit more pressure and Calanthe arched with a groan as a thin line of red welled up the cut on her back. “Fuck, Eist!” She ground down against his face.

Her hand left his wrapped around the knife and she reached up to tear the corset off. It didn’t even occur to her to hesitate – she would always trust Eist with a blade at her back. Always.

Calanthe threaded a hand through Eist’s hair again, riding him fiercely. With her other hand, she twisted her nipples, alternating between them. She always had liked a hint of pain.

Of course Eist would know what she wanted better even than herself. 

Calanthe could hear Eist’s feet moving restlessly against the bedsheets, and when she looked over her shoulder, she could see that he was hard again, just from her sitting on his face. He was already dripping with precum, just from pleasing her. Calanthe smirked and tugged on Eist’s hair. 

“Your fealty,” Calanthe gasped, a low growl edging into her voice, “is accepted.” She ground down against his chin, holding her breath for a moment before she tumbled over the edge. Pleasure suffused her senses and the knowledge that it was Eist, that this man was hers completely now, no longer hiding from her in any way – that sent her eyes rolling back, her hand clenching tight in his hair. 

When she came back to herself, she was curled over Eist’s head, thighs clenched around his ears. His hands were stroking up her back softly, even while he half-suffocated under her. She untangled her hand from his hair, stroking over it in reward. It took effort to force her muscle to move, but Calanthe was able to slump to the side and look over at her new husband.

Eist’s entire face was drenched in her, but he made no move to clean off aside from licking his lips while maintaining eye contact with her. The gesture made warmth coil in her gut, and she laughed lightly. This feeling of satisfaction and contentedness and love and safety was something she’d never had with anyone else. Calanthe had genuinely never been happier and she rolled over to press a sweet kiss to Eist’s lips, tasting herself.

He hummed against her and his hands came up to her hair, fingers sliding into the hair above her loose braid. When she drew back, he brushed his thumb along her hairline, fingers still buried in her locks. “Can I brush your hair?” Eist asked.

Calanthe blinked in surprise, but there was no reason why not, and to be honest, it would be nice having someone other than her personal attendant deal with her hair. “Sure,” Calanthe said and rolled out of the bed to sit in front of her vanity. Eist followed behind her, cock still hard and face still wet from his cheeks down. There was a look of awe and wonder in his eyes when she handed him her hairbrush.

They had never done this before. They were more than familiar with each other’s bodies, both as friends and as sexual partners, but this kind of intimacy had never been permitted between them. As Eist’s rough hands unraveled the long braid down her back and combed through it, Calanthe couldn’t remember why she hadn’t let herself have this before. She had no doubt that Eist would have been willing at any time –  _ she  _ had been the roadblock in their intimacy. But now, they were married and the world knew that Eist was hers.

He pressed a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, held her long hair with one hand, and slowly ran the brush through it with the other. He took such care with her, as if she truly were precious to him, and she suddenly had to swallow around a lump in her throat. Eist didn’t say anything, wholly focused on his task, on serving her in this way. 

“Eist,” Calanthe whispered, touching his knee. “I,” she swallowed and reminded herself that if she could face an army head-on, she could do this too. “I never understood why you chose me, why you dedicated yourself to me. But I can’t imagine my life without you and I never want to.” She licked her lips and met his eyes in the mirror. “I love you, Eist. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Eist’s mouth had dropped open as she spoke, but now a giddy smile grew across his face. “Good,” he said, setting the brush aside and covering her shoulders with wide hands, “because you just signed up for that, and you can’t get rid of me now.”

“Good,” Calanthe returned, and laced her fingers through the hand on her right shoulder. “Now let’s go to bed. I can’t even imagine the disaster that waits for us tomorrow.”

Eist chuckled, voice deep and warm. “As my Queen commands.”

There was absolutely no reason for him to loo so smug over Calanthe’s shiver. She shook her head at him and climbed into her large bed. She lay on her back, and when Eist crawled up beside her, she pulled him down so that his head could rest on her breast. He curled into her side and she noticed that he was still half-hard against her leg, but he didn’t rub against her at all, just sighed when she carded her fingers through his hair. He fell asleep before long, breaths puffing over Calanthe’s skin in a reassuring rhythm.

Calanthe strained her neck forward to press a final kiss to Eist’s head before letting her own eyes fall closed and she fell asleep secure in the knowledge that she would be building a life together with her husband.


End file.
